


Scarlet;

by Ipossia



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ipossia/pseuds/Ipossia
Summary: You hear him even before anything else, you perceive him from that absolute silence that surrounds him, that ice colder than yours. And then you see him, you watch him with your enraged eyes while he walks, in white, lightly.





	Scarlet;

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you translate some old drabble (2015 omg!) based from the Koujaku bad end of the N+C video game. This is also a gentle reminder that English is not my first language, so be kind. 
> 
> Not beta-d and yeah, have fun.

The jingling of the chains is the only sound that fills the silence, in that icy room that is your prison. You don’t hear anything, not even your breath that is fleeing from your lips and creating clouds of condensed air.

Countless times you tried to destroy that steel bars that surround you; to destroy to break to bend to bite. Everything you got was the echoing ring of your blows. Nothing more than that and the icy cold that comes from the bars. But you know it, the bitter cold you feel is not only from your prison.

It comes from within. It comes from the nothingness you find yourself to be, prisoner of your mind, of your memories. And it’s only pain. That rare moments when you are able to remember, to think, you realise you don’t even know where you are, or how much time has passed. You want to find out, you want to know, but every attempt is vane, every effort you do takes you back to something painful inside your head, and then it’s only chaos. It’s a whirlwind, without exit.

So you just keep existing, you keep doing it and keep doing it, beating the chains that tie your wrists and ankles, injuring yourself in your attempt to be free, in your attempt to escape that bars that surround you. In your attempt to die, like you really want. And then everything becomes red like your hair, everything you see becomes red, red from you blood that smear the walls.

For some moments you think you remember that same color you used to wear. That soft kimono that has lost its gleam. Now ripped, drenched with blood and who knows what else, it clings messily to your waist, exposing your chest and the tattoos that cover it. Roses on the left, black arabesque on the right: day after day they seem to grow, eating something of what you have left.

And it hurts, so damn much.

You growl, snarl, scream, bite everything, you don’t understand, no more.

When it happens they let you suffer, alone as you always will be; there was a time when they came to whip you to make you calm down. They stopped all of a sudden, maybe because of that human-like lump of flesh you found in your prison one time. It still wore the uniform. Now when they come, they keep themselves behind the bars, and you can smell their fear. You want to destroy them, scream at them, because they dare to be afraid when the only one afraid is you. And then it’s only rage that soffocate you, only hate towards that faithful day that doomed you. You want to break them, erase them from your sight. Forever.                   

 

 

 

Sometimes _he_ comes.

 _He_ ’s the only one that still enter your prison. The only one that pass these damned bars.

You hear _him_ even before anything else, you perceive _him_ from that absolute silence that surrounds _him_ , that ice colder than yours. And then you see _him_ , you watch _him_ with your enraged eyes while _he_ walks, in white, lightly.

You know you can’t do anything, you never will. Not to _him_. When _he_ comes, the pain decreases. You know that this person, this pale being that smiles at you, was part of your life, part of your erased past. You can feel it, it’s a sensations that comes only when you watch _him_ , when _he_ watches you. It’s a feeling you can’t face, that you can’t grasp.

It doesn’t last long, before it is submerged by your perpetual rage. Nostalgia is a thing you don’t understand anymore. Everything is scarlet in your mind, there’s no more colours. Only white, that person blinding empty white. It’s a scarlet white that reminds you of blood.

Everything you hear is the rustling sound of _his_ clothes on the pavement while _he_ moves close, and your subdued growl. It’s painful to be with _him_ but not in the physical way. When _he_ is there you can forget of your blame.

 _He_ brush against your face with _his_ hand, and then it’s _his_ blood that you feel in your lips when you bite, strongly, in that thin arm.

 _He_ smiles.

 _He_ smiles while _he_ stares at you with that icy death gaze of _his_ , a stare that would terrify you if only you could remember something, anything from your past. If only you could pass that painful wall in your mind.

But in the end nothing matters anymore, you don’t matter anymore.

 _He_ keeps smiling at you, freeing himself effortlessly. _He_ gently squeeze your face with _his_ hands telling something you don’t grasp with that sweet voice that resonate in every atom of what you still are. _He_ lightly touches you, travelling on your skin, _he_ tighten his grip on you until you bleed.

You are shivering without knowing why, but you know you can’t avoid it, you won’t avoid it. You want nothing else.

 _His_ white gloves are smooth on your skin, even without the touch of _his_ fingers. It would be painful like that, even if you would prefer it.

You feel _him_ on your face on your chest on your abdomen and down and down and down and you can only quietly snarl because you know this is the only thing you will be allowed in your life. Only this little time to remember your failure with this curse. To remember your error, that same error that made you lose the only thing you cared about, that made _him_ become like this.

It doesn’t take much though and that awareness is gone, submerged by the rage the pain the pleasure that _his_ gloved hands can give you. You want to bite _him_ mark _him_ destroy _him_ and destroy yourself but you know you can’t.

Only _him_ can make you resurface from the rage, from the despair. At least that is what you tell yourself. You don’t want to see the reality. You don’t want to see that after everything the pains comes back, stronger than before, drowning you, making you go insane and struggle in the abyss you have inside.

But you know nothing will change. Everything will stay exactly like it is, repeating itself. You will still scream and bite yourself until you bleed, hoping to be free. You will still be beaten and fed from afar and you sill still see that steel bars until you won’t.

You will still see _him_.

 

 

Until the only thing left of you will be scarlet dust.


End file.
